


Mask

by lacemonster



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Car Sex, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostitution, Sex Club, Some Humor, Undercover, racial exoticization, racial fetishization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 00:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16964517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacemonster/pseuds/lacemonster
Summary: Old fic from my tumblr that I'm bringing over now that tumblr is self-imploding.Originally written for DickDamiWeek2016 with the prompt "jealousy".Dick and Damian go undercover at a sex club. When the man they're following takes an interest in Damian, Dick suddenly finds it difficult to play along.





	Mask

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary mentions, I originally wrote this for DickDamiWeek2016 with the prompt "jealousy" and the kink prompt "dirty talk". The reason why I never posted it is because it was veryyyy similar to another fic that came out like, the day before it was time for me to post it. But now that time has passed, I feel more comfortable posting it.
> 
> I don't know if I would write something like this today because it borders a little too close on, what I feel like, are inappropriate topics for a PWP fic... but I decided to post it anyways since I'm leaving tumblr. 
> 
> If the topics of prostitution and sex trafficking are a difficult subject for you, I don't recommend reading this piece. The 'villain' in this piece is also, as you can imagine, a gross, abusive creep and there's also some implied racial exoticization/fetishization. So be warned.
> 
> I haven't reread this fic in a long time so I apologize if there's anything I missed in the tags. Please keep that in mind before reading this fic, especially if you have any triggers.

 

 

Ryan lived on the corner of 5th and Center—right in the heart of the East End, just a ten minute drive from Crime Alley. He sat on his front stoop as his partner, Paolo, tried to help him light a cigarette—protecting it from the cool autumn winds. Dick waited for the cigarette to be lit, the end of it a bright, glowing orange bulb in the otherwise dim Gotham night. Ryan took a long drag, the wind carrying the exhale of the smoke in Dick’s direction. Then he started his story.

“I met him in the streets,” Ryan started. He gave Dick a look. “It’s stupid, I know. But I was desperate at the time. None of my online ads were working—I kept having clients bail on me, and I needed to make rent somehow. So I went with my friend Ron to Neon Avenue, where people—”

“I know the place,” Dick said, nodding. “I run into a lot of cases there. Your friend, does he—”

“Yes. But he never got lured in. Just me. It’s like… it’s like he could just _sense_ how broke I was,” Ryan said. He shook his head to himself, looking annoyed. “And I guess it was pretty obvious. I was pretty much pleading to get into anyone’s bed—and even though men who wear suits in the East End are pretty much a bad idea, I approached him anyways. I mean, it was Neon Avenue. _Everyone_ wants to get fucked there. I figured he was just some uptown hotshot who was probably closeted and married and went to the first place he heard of to get some ass.”

“So what happened then?” Dick asked, even though he already had a good idea.

“Well, he wasn’t a client. Not really, anyways. Gave me his business card—usually when a guy gives you that, it’s some reformist group or church or whatever, but it didn’t have any shit like bible verses written on it. Then he explained he was running some fancy sex club downtown—said there would be good money involved, better than what I was making, and it’d all be under the table.”

“So did you call?”

“Well, obviously,” Ryan said, smiling a little. “But not at first. I mean, it was totally shady. Totally. But he seemed nice enough, was professional-looking even, so I figured it was worth trying. So he called me, gave me the address, told me to come in through the back. It was such a long drive to get out there, but if he was telling the truth, the money was more than worth it. Almost couldn’t find the damn place—the building is unmarked. You’d never know it was even there if someone didn’t tell you.”

“What’s the building like?”

“Have you ever been to a sex club?”

Dick shook his head. He had infiltrated a few, chasing leads, but had never spent his time in any.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “They’re just clubs where a bunch of people touch each other. In order for it to be legal, you have to keep your junk inside your clothes. But everywhere else is free to grab. There’s a ton of them downtown, you just need to know where to find them.” He shook his head to himself a little bit. “But this place… I could tell, from the moment I walked in, that there was something different about it. First off, it’s all men. Second, it was definitely the classiest place I had ever been to. Usually when I think of sex clubs, I think dirty, too dark, with trashy music and too many drinks. But this place was all… mahogany tables and carpeted floors and guys in business suits that were probably worth more than my life. So I knew there was something more going on there—because there was no way this place was making _that_ much of a profit and staying clean, and there was no way I was going to be paid as much as he was offering if the only thing guys were doing was fondling me through my underwear.”

“So how much fondling was there then?”

Ryan smirked a little behind his cigarette. “Well, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“How long did you stay there for?”

“Awhile, actually. I’d say maybe four months. It was great in the beginning—best money I was making in awhile. I should have sensed that I was getting into something way over my head—I wasn’t just sleeping with guys who wore masks and suits because it was the dress code. I was sleeping with Gotham elite. Businessmen, celebrities, _politicians_. People with money. Power. More than what I ever had. But things were finally turning around for me, I was even looking into bigger places to move into, and even when things started to get shitty… I honestly didn’t want to give it up.”

Dick saw the conflict growing in his eyes. The regret. The wisdom gained, albeit too late. Still, Dick pushed him further.

“When did you start to notice something was wrong?”

Ryan gave a long, heavy sigh. He was reaching the end of his cigarette now. “The guys in that place are total creeps. I mean, I can handle people with fetishes and things like that—that's normal. But every guy in there was totally… full of themselves, you know? It’s like they were the only ones that mattered and everyone else was just… an object. I’ve had a lot of fucked-up, weird clients, but very rarely did they ever treat me like these guys did. The owner wasn't any better. He sleeps with his workers, pretty much uses them whenever he likes. It was starting to become unbearable. I dreaded going. Eventually it showed.”

“So you stopped going.”

“Not completely. Just a little bit, here and there. The owner didn’t like that. He paid us by the week—that's how he keeps everyone trapped in. One week he cut me off completely—it was almost enough to make me leave, but I couldn’t just do a week’s worth of work and just have nothing. I needed to pay bills. So I agreed to work another week so he would pay me. After he paid me, I wanted to leave, but he kept promising me money. So I tried, but I really didn’t want to go. Then he stopped with the money completely—he started threatening me.”

Dick frowned. “With violence?”

“I mean, not outright,” Ryan said. “But he knew everything about me—where I grew up, where I lived, who my friends were. He threatened to take it all away. He threatened to destroy my life. He had the money to do it too—so I stayed.” Ryan shrugged a little. “But there came a time where I just had to get out. So I said _fuck it_ , risked it all and left.”

“Then what?”

Ryan stuffed out the cigarette, a weary expression on his face. He was silent for a moment. Paolo reached over, touched his shoulder—a small gesture of comfort. It was enough for Ryan to keep going.

“A week after I left, I came home. All of my stuff was thrown out onto the street. It’s East End, so half of it got stolen. My TV, my bike, even my grandpa’s pocketwatch. I couldn’t take the rest with me so I grabbed what I could, the most important things, and tried to find a different place. I found a couple places but the minute I set up a time to sign the lease, they’d call back and tell me they couldn’t rent to me. I had money, it was just as good as anyone else’s, and I called a _lot_ of places. The fucker was following me. He was keeping me _homeless_.”

Dick didn’t have to question him. He already had evidence of all the bribes—but in the end, that technically wasn’t illegal. It wasn’t enough to nail this guy.

Ryan continued, “I had to go back to escorting. Couldn’t find a job without an address. Didn’t have a car to sleep in, so eventually I was staying in motels which was eating up all of my savings. Couldn’t afford my phone, so it got shut off, which took away all of my online clients. I had to go back to the streets, but I couldn’t find enough work, so eventually I just… lost it all.”

“How long were you homeless?”

Ryan looked at him. “Six months.”

Dick let this information settle in. “If he goes to court, would you be willing to testify?”

“And get thrown in jail?”

“That’s an outdated standard. Gotham Law protects the victims of trafficking—blame goes to the traffickers.”

Ryan scoffed a little. “Will it make a difference? He’ll buy a good lawyer, or he’ll buy himself out, or he’ll go back to doing what he was doing before. Money can save you from anything. No one gives a shit about sex workers anyways.”

“GCPD and the Gotham judicial system can shut down his club and put him in jail. As for his money, _they_ can’t do anything. But, as you may have noticed—”Dick gestured to himself, the blue emblem on his chest on display”—I’m not GCPD.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, laughing once. “I guess not.” He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’d do it. Why not? The only problem I see is that there's no documentation. I don't have any paperwork or paystubs saying that I worked there—only my word.”

“You and the word of several other guys,” Dick said. “I plan to get proof—real proof—but I need to get in there to do it. What does a guy have to do to get into this club?”

“Well, first of all, you’re going to need a different mask,” Ryan said, pointing. “But make it nice—don’t buy those cheap, shitty ones from Halloween stores. Wear a suit, a _nice_ one. Give them the password at the door—they won’t ask where you got it from, they like newcomers. Wear designer and nothing less—it’s not just about looking sharp. Sex workers don't give a shit if you're pretty—they just care about what's in your wallet, and they teach the boys to look for the _rich_ ones, so it doesn't matter what you look like as long as you look like you're made of money. If they find you, they’ll invite you to the backrooms.”

“And what if I want to meet the guy in charge?”

“He’s always in the backroom. He goes every Saturday, when they’re open. It’s easy to talk to him—he’s very unassuming, so people don’t pay attention to him. He waits for people to come to him, but once they do, he won’t shut up.” Ryan shrugged a little. “Honestly? Flirt with him. He likes sharing his favorites with clients and making buddies with the rest of the perverts.”

“How will I know it’s him?”

“He always wears a white mask. It’s sort of his trademark. His name is Bennett.”

“Thanks guys,” Dick said, taking a step back. “I promise you that he won’t get away with this.”

“I've sort of abandoned my old ways—but honest to God, if you succeed, I’ll blow you,” Ryan said, his hands in the air.

“He does give good head,” Paolo said, nodding. A chorus of laughter passed between them all.

“Thanks but I think I’ll be fine.”

“That’s a shame,” Dick caught Ryan saying, but he was already running off.

 

            “You _promised_ you would do it.”

“I’m sorry, Dick. I want to help you. But I’m going to be overseas—and unfortunately, this mission takes higher priority,” Tim said, frowning. Dick followed him around the safehouse, even as Tim was already in his uniform and equipping the tools for his trip.

“Tim, the guy was homeless for _six months_. This Bennett guy has been threatening the people that are supposed to be in his care. The only difference between him and a low-life pimp is that he’s got the money to ruin people for the _rest of their lives_. I did research into this guy—did you know he actually runs _Brooke Industries_?”

“Wait, you mean that guy that was accused of funding money to that shady politician?”

“Yes—and _you_ think it doesn’t take higher priority. This guy is an awful person in every aspect.”

“Look, I’ve got a team to lead. Can’t you find someone with _less_ shit going on in their life?” Tim said, stopping in his tracks and eyeing Dick down. The serious look made Dick feel defeated—but he tried not to let it faze him.

“I just need you to follow me with a recorder—it’s just for _one_ night. I'd do it myself but I only get one chance. Considering the nature of this place, something could easily happen to my clothes—to my _recorder_. I need a second body to follow me.”

“Why can’t you ask Bruce? He’s _way_ better at this undercover stuff than I am,” Tim said.

“That was my first choice—but he has team shit going on too. Some… alien invasion, I don’t fucking know. Justice League bullshit.” Dick shrugged. “Besides, he’s famous. Even with the mask on, I’m afraid he'd be recognized. And he can’t use his face masking technology because the pieces for it wrap around the neck—and if clothes had to come off, for whatever reason, I can’t have some guy wrapped in wires.”

“Barbara?”

“Men only.”

“Any of your old teammates?”

“They have their own responsibilities. I can’t ask them to fly all the way in for this.”

“Jason?”

Dick gave him a look.

“Why don’t you just ask Damian? You guys work together all of the time anyways,” Tim said, shrugging.

“Damian couldn’t improvise to save his life,” Dick said, waving Tim off. “I don’t need to be focusing on stepping in every time someone asks him a question—but at the same time, I can’t risk him causing trouble by letting him glare at every person that approaches him. Besides, people are going to be touching each other and shit, I don’t need to deal with him freaking out.”

Tim raised his hands in surrender. “I don’t know who’s in the best position to help you. What I _do_ know is that _I_ can’t be the one to do it.”

Tim turned around, continuing to pack his things. Dick watched him go, a sinking feeling washing over him.

            This was the direction he had been hoping to avoid.

 

“His name is Bennett. He's going to be wearing a white mask. I'll do all of the talking, you just have to stay nearby, just in case something happens to my recorder.”

“I know.”

“If things get uncomfortable, just use the hand signal. And don't drink anything they give you and definitely don't do anything you don't want to do. Just because we have to play the part, that doesn't mean we need to do anything reckless or dangerous.”

“This is the third time you've told me this, Richard. I'm not an _idiot_.”

Dick’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. This situation was not… ideal. He tried to remind himself that it was just another mission and that with all of his undercover experience combined, Damian's shortcomings shouldn't be an issue.

As good as Damian was at chasing down criminals and sneaking into buildings, going undercover was a whole different type of mission.

“If anything happens to you, your dad is going to kill me,” Dick muttered as he parked the car. He opened the glove compartment, pulling out the masks, and while Alfred had done remarkably in finding some classy ones, they still felt somewhat flimsy compared to what he was used to wearing.

“ _Tt_. Seems like just another, regular night to me,” Damian said, putting on the mask. “The eyewear is nearly the same, at least.”

“Nothing in there is going to be regular,” Dick said. He stuck his mask on as well, double-checking it in the rearview mirror. The blue matched the vest of his suit—this, Alfred had also done well. Dick was too afraid to even ask about the price tags for their suits. He looked over at Damian, who was dressed nicely as well in black and white. It was weird seeing the mask on and no red and green to go with it—it added an element of mystery, even though Dick was perfectly aware of who was sitting in front of him. “Remember. Hand signal. Seriously.”

Damian gave him a bored expression and flipped him off. Dick sighed a little.

 

Dick had done a lot of strange things and had been to weird places in his lifetime—but once they were inside, he felt like he had reached a whole new playing field.

Ryan’s description didn’t do the place justice. The interior was gorgeous. The building reminded him of the architecture in Old Gotham—filled with classic, highly ornate archways and pillars of carved darkwood, and lush burgundy carpets as red as wine. He almost wondered if he was dreaming of some charity ball he had attended in the past—until they stepped further inside.

There was subtle music in the background—low, pulsing. The lighting was dim—not enough to be dark, but enough to add to the sense of forbidden, enough to add to the atmospheric vibe. As they moved in deeper, past the crowds of people that were standing at a distance and simply talking or surveying, Dick began to see moving bodies.

Bodies on thick plush couches and cushions. Bodies with missing jackets, unbuttoned vests and shirts, loose neckties—although the pants stayed on, had to stay on. Bodies kissing, touching, hands in shirts, hands rubbing through clothing.

But it didn't stop at touching and making out, like Dick had expected. Some of it bordered on fetish, though it still somehow managed to realm within the side of legal—because while it was clearly a fetish, they still weren't _actually_ having sex. At least, not in the open. Dick needed to get into the backroom and prove otherwise.

Dick was scanning the room, eyes settling on a pair near a wall. Dick felt a heat rise to his face—one of the men had his hands tied in leather restraints above his head, the other man's hand stuck inside his shirt to rub his chest, while the two kissed. There were similar scenes throughout the club. It was more mind-boggling to think that many of these people were strangers to one another.

Dick must have been staring because he felt an elbow dig into his side. Dick glanced back at Damian, who gave him a disapproving look.

“ _Tt_. I thought _I_ was supposed to be subtle,” Damian muttered.

Dick felt slight shame wash over him—he remembered why he was there. He cleared his throat. “Right.”

Dick glanced around the room, his eyes catching the gazes of several others. People were looking at him. He hoped it was because of the suit and not because he was an obvious newcomer. Someone passed by, eyeing him up and down, before slowing to the stop.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” Dick said, throwing his best smile. He achieved the reaction he was hoping for—the man looked taken aback for a moment, almost nervous.

“My friends and I are having some drinks at the bar. Join us?” he said. He glanced over at Damian, reaching out to gently touch his arm. Dick’s stomach dropped. “Your friend can come with too.”

Before Dick could find a way to save the situation, Damian had already pulled back his arm and backed away a step.

“Don't touch me,” he said, narrowing his eyes. Dick inwardly panicked but the man didn't seem disturbed.

“Sorry, I assumed too much,” he said, putting his hands up in surrender. He turned and moved towards the bar, unfazed. Dick found it odd until he noticed some other people, who also were not touching or being touched—they simply watched other people.

Still, this was not good. Dick pulled Damian into a quiet area. In a hushed voice, he hissed, “You can’t do that.”

“Like hell I can’t.”

“Don’t you get it? We have to be subtle. We have to act like we _want_ to be here. You can’t just go picking fights with everyone that looks at you.”

“I’m not,” Damian argued.

“ _Yes you are_!” Dick exclaimed—but he had to rein himself in. There were still people around, although many of them were distracted. The people closest to them were feverishly making out, too busy in their own world. “What if that guy was one of their workers? What if he was trying to get us into the backroom? You could have just ruined our chances to get in.” Lowering his voice another octave, Dick said, “Look, next time someone does that, just say you’re here to watch—this place is filled with voyeurs, so no one will treat you differently. Deflect them to me, if you have to. But _don’t_ scare them off, for fuck’s sake.”

“If _any_ of them touch me—”

“Then you will do _nothing_ ,” Dick interrupted, pointing a finger in his face. Damian glared past the finger and at him stubbornly. Dick sighed heavily. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to bring you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Damian said, annoyed.

“Exactly what it sounds like. I should have been here with Tim,” Dick said. He muttered under his breath, “He fucking owes me, I swear.”

Damian’s eyes were still narrowed—but when it came to arguing, he was suddenly silent. Dick could feel the negative energy coming off of him but he didn’t have time to ponder over it. He remembered what Ryan had told him—that the workers _searched_ for the clients. He needed to start drawing attention to himself. He needed to get into that stupid backroom.

Dick ventured off, not even bothering to see if Damian was following him. He breathed in a little, composing himself. He stopped and looked around the room. His best bet was to find someone who was a worker—but there was no way of knowing for sure who was a client and who was someone that worked in the backroom.

It was safe to assume that a worker would be someone who was young and attractive. Someone who looked comfortable and confident in their element. That knocked out all of the voyeurs and older men. The workers also _looked_ for rich men, so he knocked out anyone who was fraternizing with a person in a cheap suit.

In a room full of pulsing music and soft moans and sighs, he managed to pick up on a voice. Specifically, an accent. It reminded him of the way Jason talked. He quickly looked in the direction, drawing in a little closer to observe. The speaker was dressed nicely but he talked like he had just crawled out of Park Row. Dick thought about Ryan—who had worked in the lowly streets of East End, renting himself out on Neon Avenue when he was finally recruited by Bennett. The speaker was talking to a man, one in a designer suit with a fancy silver watch on his wrist. He looked to be about Ryan’s age and had this devilishly handsome smirk on his face.

He had to be a worker. Dick’s mind raced, trying to think of a way to butt his way into the conversation. He turned around, finding Damian who seemed to be sulking a few feet away.

“You see that guy with the watch?” Dick said. Damian looked over Dick’s shoulder, subtly nodded. “I need the guy he's talking to, the one in the gold mask. Think you can distract him?”

“Should I punch him?”

“ _What_?”

“I'm kidding,” Damian said, rolling his eyes. Dick forced himself to relax. “He looks like a total bore but I'll find a way.”

Dick waited nearby while Damian intruded into the conversation.

“Did you hear that _Wayne Enterprises_ went up by two points?” were the first words that came out of Damian's mouth.

Dick almost screamed.

Of all the fucking things Damian could have done or said, and the first thing he thought of to distract the guy was to talk about _stocks_? Dick almost preferred the punching plan.

The man stared at Damian long and hard for a moment. Then suddenly, he smirked.

“No kidding,” he said, slowly nodding. “You know, I sold all of my _Wayne_ shares years ago. Invested in _Queen Industries_ instead. Boy, do I regret that. Oliver Queen can't run a company to save his life. What does he even _do_ with all of that money?”

The worker’s eyes dulled with boredom as the two talked. Dick quickly used that to his advantage, sweeping in.

“Is any of this making sense to you?” Dick leaned in and asked. The man in the gold mask looked him up and down, eyeing his outfit. He slowly smiled.

“Not a word,” he said, shaking his head. He gave a desperate look. “Save me?”

Dick grabbed him by the wrist, leading him to the nearest couch. When they sat down, the man scooted in closer, their knees touching.

“I don't think I've seen you here before,” the man said, eyeing him.

“No?” Dick said, face leaning in a little closer. The man looked back up at him, eyes bright behind the mask.

“I definitely would have remembered _you_ ,” he said, voice low.

“Do you come here a lot?” Dick asked, sounding casual.

“I work here,” the man said. Dick’s heart skipped a beat.

“Bartender?”

The man smiled, no doubt amused. “No,” he said. His eyelids lowered a little. “You smell nice. What are you wearing?”

Dick could see through his act. This guy probably didn't give two shits about his cologne—he was just trying to gauge how much money Dick had, and he was trying to seduce the answers out of him. But Dick could play that game too.

“ _Laffitte_ ,” Dick said. That part he had planned—he admittedly already owned the fragrance. It wasn't difficult pretending to be rich, considering he used to live with one of the world's richest billionaires. He dared to touch the man's face, fingertips lightly dragging over his jawline. The man's breath hitched—and Dick had to wonder if the man was just that good at the game he played, or if it excited him just as much as it was exciting Dick. But then his eyes glanced at Dick’s wrist, where his cufflinks were, and Dick knew. “So where do you work then?”

“VIP,” the man said, looking at him. Dick felt a hand inside of his jacket, running down his side. It felt nicer than Dick wanted to admit. Their faces were close but untouching. “I could maybe get you in, if you wanted. But it's not cheap.”

Dick smiled. “That's not a problem. Will you be there?”

The man pulled him in a little closer. Dick is fully aware of the way their bodies are positioned—fully aware that Dick’s back is pressed against the couch with the man hovering in front of him, his hand still on his body. Dick’s thumb lightly traced over his lips—and while it was the reaction he was hoping for, his heart still raced when the man lightly kissed it.

“Of course,” he said.

“Are workers supposed to be flirting with their customers?” Dick said in a lightly chiding voice.

“Is that what we're doing?” he said, grinning. “Well, we could talk about it more when we're back there.”

The man was ready to lead him into the backroom—but there was one more thing that Dick had to make sure happened, one thing that had to be guaranteed before he could even think about going back there. Just as the man straightened his back, Dick tugged on his hips, drawing him back in. The man had put up his arms on either side of Dick’s head to steady himself on the couch. The worker seemed surprised, even seemed to redden a little, as Dick’s hands lowered to grab his ass.

And that's when Dick hit him with it: “There's just one thing—my friend has to come with.”

At that, some of the desire slipped away. The man struggled to stay polite, eyes glancing in Damian's direction—who was still talking passionately about the stock market—before looking back at Dick warily. “Your… friend?”

“My co-worker. I promised him we wouldn't get split up.”

The man relaxed a little at the word _co-worker_. Dick remembered Ryan’s advice—that it was more about money than personality or appearance. But the worker still glanced over at Damian—who he hadn't gotten a chance to properly assess—no doubt trying to weigh if it was worth the risk.

Dick leaned up, hips rolling against the man’s, mouth latching onto the shell of his ear. The man sighed in response—and maybe it was arrogant to think so, but Dick was fairly convinced the noise was genuine. Finally the man drew away, nodding.

“It should be fine.” He smiled a little, saying, “But I'm only doing you this favor because you're so handsome.”

Dick wondered how much of that was true.

Dick grabbed Damian by the back of his jacket as they walked by, the man with the watch blinking in surprise as Damian was literally dragged out of the conversation. Dick followed the worker as he led them to the back corner of the club. The worker knocked and the door was answered by a bigger guy, no doubt security, who recognized the man in the gold mask and nodded. He let them all in.

The backroom was oddly quiet compared to the club. Dick could hear talking but it was absent of music. The lights were also brighter. The man led them in further, down a narrow hallway—as they walked, they passed several closed doors. The voices were stifled by the closed doors but Dick was certain he was hearing correctly—moans, sighs, screams. He didn't let it faze him.

As they made it to the end of the narrow hallway, they were led into a spacious room. It was similar to the club, although smaller. But the acts were far different.

Dick remained composed but inside, his mind was reeling at the sights. Men in various states of undress, some naked. A man getting blown in the back-corner of the room. Groups of men all over each other—fondling, groping, kissing. One man—a worker, if Dick had to guess—completely restrained and subjected to the whims of everyone in the room. Dick wasn't sure what he had just walked into.

Dick wanted to glance back at Damian, wanted to make sure that he wasn't freaking out, but he halted completely when he caught a glimpse of something.

In the room was a lone white mask, belonging to a man who sat in the back of the room. He sat, simply observing, on a couch. Every signal in Dick’s brain was going off—even without Ryan’s tip-off, Dick had worked on enough cases that he had developed a sort of sixth sense when it came to spotting perps. The man was as unassuming as Ryan described, sitting in the back and observing while subservient young men took all of the attention, but there was this air of confidence about him that only needed a moment of paying attention to in order to recognize.

“This really is VIP,” Dick said, sounding amused. The man in the gold mask smiled at him.

“We have private rooms too—but that requires paying up front,” the man said. “Would you like me to introduce you to anyone? Someone for your friend?”

“Actually, I'm a little curious,” Dick said, voice low like a whisper. The worker just smiled encouragingly.

“Of course,” he said, unoffended. “I'll introduce you to anyone. Who do you have in mind?”

“That man in the corner. The one in the white mask.”

The man did wonderfully in keeping up a front—but Dick had learned how to read people years ago, and he could see the subtle ways in which the man tensed at the mention of his employer.

“Well, he's actually the clubowner,” the man said, a little quick. “But I know he's happy to meet anyone, and he can give great recommendations.”

“Could you take us over there?” Dick asked. Dick could tell by the way he faltered that it was his last desire to go anywhere near there—but he couldn't refuse, so he forced a smile.

“Of course,” he said, and he led the way.

Dick followed slowly so he could look back at Damian and judge how he was faring. He hadn't had a chance to look at him since entering the backroom. Dick had expected the tension, the awkwardness. But there was something else there, a subtle darkness to his gaze, a certain way that he glanced around the room with a sternness.

He was pissed off.

“You okay?” Dick said, voice hushed.

“Look at them. Closely.” Damian's voice was terse.

Dick obeyed, though he already had an idea of what he was going to see. He glanced at the undressed men, taking note of the bruises on their wrists and the lashes on their skin. He watched a group of men laugh as they poured their drinks on a worker. Dick thought of Ryan’s story, how he would endure the rest of a week just to get his pay, how he endured threats when he wanted to leave.

He reminded himself this wasn't a sex club, it just pretended to be. That there was nothing in this entire half of the building that even remotely resembled sex. It was abuse, plain and simple, wrongfully disguising itself as fetish.

“Mind if we join you?”

The man in the white mask looked up. He saw Dick and Damian, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chairs in front of him. “Do you want a drink?”

“We don't drink,” Damian said flatly. It wasn't the smoothest but the man, who was presumably Bennett, shrugged.

“That's alright,” he said. “What can I help you with?”

“Well,” Dick started slowly, looking him in the eyes. “I saw you and I wanted to meet you for myself.”

“Really?” he said, a smirk slowly forming on his lips. Dick could tell the comment was stroking his ego, exactly as Ryan told him it would. Dick played into it.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” Dick asked.

He gestured to the spot next to him. Dick took it.

“You seem surprised,” Dick told him.

“It’s not often people approach me—especially when I’m surrounded by so many beautiful things,” he said, gesturing around the room with almost a sense of pride.

“People,” Damian said, muttering. Dick stiffened in place.

“Pardon?” the clubowner asked.

“It’s beautiful people,” Damian said, a little louder. He stared Bennett in the eye. “You said things. This chair is a _thing_. That table is _thing_. None of these people are _things_.”

As much as Dick agreed, he clenched his jaw. If Damian wasn’t careful, he was going to get them both kicked out. If that happened, then there wasn’t much more they could legally do to shut down the club and get rid of Bennett—which was the whole point of their mission. He secretly hoped Damian would just let it go—but he also knew him too well. Damian never just settled.

Bennett gave Damian an odd look but he didn’t seem angry. He even managed a smile. “You’re right. My mistake. Are you still enjoying your time here?”

“Could be worse,” Damian said, mimicking Bennett’s fake smile. “I could be burned alive in a pot of boiling oil.”

Dick’s face was burning. If he could, he’d throw Damian into a pot of boiling oil. Even the man in the gold mask seemed to eye Damian strangely.

“I suppose that would be worse,” Bennett said, amused by Damian’s words. Dick wondered if Bennett just didn’t realize that Damian was being serious.

“You really don’t know how to run this establishment, do you?” Damian said.

At that, Dick paused. He wasn’t sure if this was planned or not—but this time, he allowed Damian to continue running his mouth.

“I think I run this place just fine,” Bennett said. He turned to Dick. “What do you think? Have you been enjoying your time here?”

“I don’t believe we’ve had the full treatment yet,” Dick said. He stayed focused, choosing his words carefully. “What exactly does VIP entail?”

“Your choice of any of the merchandise,” Bennett said.

“Men,” Damian corrected. Dick allowed the correction.

“Yes, men,” Bennett said. “You have your choice of any of the men.”

“And what can we do with them?”

“Anything you want—for a price,” Bennett said. He leaned in a little closer to Dick. “I could show you, if you want.”

“We’re fine,” Damian said flatly. Dick was careful to not let his face fall—that time, Damian wasn’t being clever.

“Why don’t you find someone for yourself, then?” Dick said, looking at him pointedly. Damian looked at him incredulously. “You won’t be gone long. I’ll be right here. You can come back when you found someone.”

“I can show you,” the man in the gold mask said. Damian and Dick locked eyes. Dick gave him a look, hoping to convey his message. Damian sighed and resigned, standing up and following the worker to meet the others.

“I’m sorry about that. He’s just nervous—I promised him I’d stick with him,” Dick said, turning toward Bennett. He placed his hand next to Bennett’s, fingers splaying so that they just barely touched. He looked him in the eyes. “But I would love it if you showed me how this all works.”

A desire grew in Bennett’s eyes, beneath the mask. But he hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain. He sighed a little, smiling a little awkwardly. “Actually, I'm… a little more curious about your friend.”

Damian.

Dick faltered for a moment—something he almost never did when undercover, but a part of him couldn't help but panic. Aside from the fact that this was completely unexpected, this wasn't part of the plan _at all_. Bennett looked at him, noticing that flicker of hesitation, and seemed a bit embarrassed.

“I hope you're not offended. You are gorgeous—”Dick didn't flinch as Bennett reached over and played with the tips of his hair”—he just seems more of my type. I like them a bit younger, a bit feistier. He even seems a little exotic.”

Dick felt his skin crawl with every word—especially the last bit, which just seemed like the cherry on top of the creepazoid sundae. But he appeared unfazed, even leaned in towards Bennett’s touch to make it seem like he liked the attention. As a last-ditch effort to persuade the man otherwise, Dick turned his head, kissing the palm of Bennett’s hand—gazing up at him all the while.

It had an effect. The man stirred in his spot, a look of thought passing his gaze as he reconsidered. But the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile and he said anyways, “Bring him back over?”

Dick’s heartrate picked up. “He mostly came to watch. I don't want to push him into doing anything.”

“He'll like it.”

Dick felt a flare of anger. He was equally blown away by the arrogance of the statement and the complete disrespect for boundaries. He didn't show it, however, and he reminded himself that this was to be expected. This club was just a front for this man's illegal activities. No one's boundaries were respected here. He reminded himself of his mission.

“I'll go talk to him and see what he says,” Dick said at once. He flashed his best smile and Bennett stared in wonder, his fingertips still brushed against Dick’s hair before Dick finally got up.

Damian eyed him questioningly as Dick approached him, dragging him away from the workers to a quiet corner. Damian quirked an eyebrow. “Cold feet?” he mocked.

“He says he wants _you_ ,” Dick said in a hushed whisper, though no one else was nearby. Damian's eyebrows furrowed and he glanced over Dick’s shoulder, but only for a brief second. Dick quickly said, “It's okay. I already told him you just came to watch—”

“I’ll do it,” Damian said, cutting him off. Dick drew back, his character breaking.

“What?” he said. That wasn't the response he had been expecting. Damian shrugged it off.

“I'll do it,” he said again. “It doesn't exactly matter who he's with, does it?”

To emphasize his point, Damian lightly tapped his temple where the recorder was hiding in his mask. Where both of them had their recorders. Dick shook his head slowly, equally incredulous and horrified.

“You know what you're getting yourself into, right?”

“If he desires me so much, then I'll probably get him to talk easier than you. He already spilled so much just from our conversation on the couch. Besides, if I refuse, he might get upset with you by association. You already said it yourself—we need to act like we _want_ to be here.”

“That's not what I meant,” Dick said, his voice a hiss. “He's going to be touching you. Kissing you. And depending on how long it takes for him to start blabbing, he'll—”

Dick stopped short, realizing he didn't want to say it. There was a flicker of hesitation in Damian’s expression—but if he was bothered, he didn’t let it stop him.

“Just make sure you’re nearby, like we planned—only this time, our roles are reversed. I do all the work and you follow,” Damian said.

A sick, anxious feeling ran through Dick’s stomach. Bruce was definitely going to kill him.

“Alright. Fine,” Dick said. “Remember, we still need his name. He blabbed pretty easily on the couch but we need more than that.”

Damian simply nodded. They returned to Bennett, who stood when he saw them.

“Excellent,” he said. “I have my own room in the back.” He looked at Dick. “Bring whoever you like.”

On the plus side, it seemed Dick was being invited into the room. On the downside, the fact that he was expected to bring someone hinted that he wasn't going to be entirely close. Dick quickly grabbed the man in the gold mask, whose eyes seemed to light up when Dick had chosen him, and Dick soon found himself in a decently sized, spacious room.

“Should I take care of payments?” the man in the gold mask asked. Bennett shook his head.

“No, don’t worry about that right now.”

Dick thought about what the worker had mentioned earlier—that private rooms were paid upfront. It freaked him out a little bit that Bennett was so eager that he was willing to put his money on the line. He glanced over at Damian, still waiting on the hand signal that this was too much, but he appeared expressionless. But his eyes were subtly observing the room, taking in his surroundings, as Bennett hung up his jacket on the bedpost.

Suddenly Dick felt himself being pulled away. He glanced over at the escort, who seemed to be leading him away from the bed. He inwardly panicked.

“We came here together,” Dick started.

“We won't be too far,” he said, leading him by his hands. True enough, he found himself being taken to just the other side of the room. He was plopped down in a thick, cushioned chair. He tried to settle down. The bed was right there, he could still see, and he was sure his recorders would be able to pick up sound from where he was.

Although Dick was slowly beginning to wonder how much of that was a good thing, especially when Bennett started to ease Damian’s jacket off of his shoulders.

Dick’s view was cut off when the worker kneeled in front of him. Dick forced away his attention, smiling at the man casually. The man looked at him for a moment too long.

“You seem nervous,” he said.

“I’m not, I just—”Dick suddenly blanked, losing his excuse when his gaze looked past the escort and saw Bennett saying something to Damian. But his voice was hushed, too low for him to hear, and their faces were drawn close. Damian seemed surprisingly calm, his eye contact unbreaking, as Bennett whispered to him. He almost seemed like a different person.

But wasn't that the point of going undercover?

“Office crush?”

“What?” Dick said, eyes drawn back to the gold mask.

“It’s okay, I get it,” the man said, shrugging. “I have—er, _had_ , a thing for my co-worker once. He liked me too—but we didn’t want to make work weird or make our boss mad, so nothing ever came of it.”

“Oh, no,” Dick said, quickly shaking his head when he realized what the man was suggesting. “That’s not it. I was just watching.”

“Well, you don’t have to watch all night,” he said, and he leaned in close, their lips meeting.

Dick wrapped his hand around the man’s head, pulling him in, deepening the kiss. He dared to open his eyes, to catch a glimpse of Damian. Just as he had opened his eyes, he watched as Bennett tugged on Damian’s tie, pulling him forward, capturing his lips hard. Dick tensed, the action more aggressive than he was expecting. His first instinct was to leap in to protect Damian—but there was still no hand signal. Damian didn’t even seem to notice him—his eyes were closed, staying in the moment, responding to the kiss.

Dick quickly turned his attention back to his partner. He didn’t want to be caught distracted again. The man pulled away just as he did so. The worker’s hands slipped underneath the jacket, running up Dick’s torso to his shoulders. He gently peeled off the jacket and Dick leaned forward, helping him take it off, hanging it on the back of the chair. Their lips met again, and despite Dick’s trepidations, he had to admit that it felt nice. The man’s lips were soft, warm, inviting. Dick tried not to think about the last time he had felt something like that.

Hands trailed back down his body, to the vest. Each button was undone one by one, achingly slow, drawing it out. Their mouths kept moving all the while. Dick heard a noise, a voice. He dared to open his eyes again. Bennett and Damian hadn’t slowed down at all—seemed to be speeding by, in comparison. Bennett pulled at the tie in his hands, the fabric almost hypnotic as it slipped undone. Dick watched closely, perhaps too closely, spotting Damian as he sucked on Bennett’s bottom lip.

Some spark ignited in Dick.

A dull anger rushed through his body at once, his heart beginning to beat a little faster. He wondered, bitterly, if Damian was even doing his job. If he was even bothering to get Bennett’s name—because it seemed like they were doing a lot of things, and talking wasn’t one of them. But his rational side calmed himself down. He had to trust Damian to know what he was doing.

But it was hard to not get caught up in the scene as he watched this kid—who used to take acting lessons just so he could remotely resemble a normal human being—suddenly making out with a total stranger. It was hard to not get irritated.

Dick felt his partner pull away. He looked down at him as he slowly undid his tie. Any dull pleasure that Dick might have been experiencing quickly washed away, replaced with frustration. It all felt too gentle.

The tie slipped from his neck, placed onto the armchair. The worker unbuttoned the shirt, top to bottom. It almost felt like a chore. Dick felt almost confined to the chair, in a way. It felt like he was sitting front row to a horror film. He watched, brow furrowed slightly, as Bennett backed Damian into the bed—the back of his knees hitting the edge, his body soon laid out on top of the mattress. The sleazy clubowner climbed on top of him, their bodies moving with fervor.

The escort suddenly said something, drawing Dick’s attention. Dick looked at him blankly, realizing he hadn't heard a single word.

“What?” Dick said. He hadn't realized he had been staring until his attention was forcefully diverted. His partner did not seem upset, even seemed to smirk a little.

“It looks nice, doesn't it?” he said. “Your friend is really cute. And John is the hottest one here, so they’ll all look good together.”

_Wait_. “John? I thought—”

“Sorry,” the escort said, shaking his head as he caught onto the mistake. “I suppose it could be anyone that joins them. It's just that John is Bennett’s favorite partner so I assume it's going to be him.”

So the man _was_ Bennett. That was good news, although Damian still needed to draw the man’s name from his own mouth. But now Dick was curious about what else his partner was saying.

            Suddenly he thought back to what Ryan had told him.

_He likes sharing his favorites with clients_.

The man in the gold mask had just used that word too. _Favorite_.

Dick didn’t have time to ponder it. The man had just unbuttoned his shirt, untucking it and undoing the sleeves. Dick shrugged it off. The man slipped his hands beneath the undershirt, feeling the muscles there, and Dick could see the light flush on his face. Dick focused on the man’s hands, trying to calm himself down. The man’s hands were soft and smooth, not callused like his own—and although they felt nice, Dick couldn't help but think that it all felt off.

The man lifted the shirt, and while there had been some slight excitement in his eyes, that quickly wavered when he saw the excessive amount of scars and bruises on Dick’s body. His hand traced over an obvious bulletmark, slight confusion and fear in his eyes.

“Ex-military,” Dick said quickly, smiling nervously. He hoped he would buy the excuse.

“Oh,” the man said, and the blush came back darker. He helped him tug off the shirt the rest of the way.

Dick stirred in place as the man started touching his body, hands running over the muscles. He leaned in, tasting his skin, and Dick couldn’t resist the shiver that went down his spine as the man began dragging his lips along his abdomen. Over the worker’s head, he could see the bed. Damian tugged hard on Bennett’s shirt, popping the first few buttons, and Dick could hear the groan even from where he was sitting. Bennett pulled Damian up, so they were on their knees, where Bennett hurriedly undid the buttons on Damian’s shirt.

When he finished, he spread the shirt, his eyes landing on Damian's form—and stopping when he spotted something on Damian’s abdomen. His hand reached out, touching it—a long, jagged scar over his core. Too uneven to be surgical.

Dick looked at it, an image of a sword crossing his memory, and he realized that he recognized it—was shocked that it had remained there after all of these years. A bitter reminder of what he considered one of his greatest failures.

But Bennett looked at it and just smiled darkly.

“Do you like pain?”

Damian just laughed a little—it gave him an air of arrogance, overconfidence. It was convincing, but Dick knew him too well—he could see that the _fuck you_ in his eyes was genuine. It was Dick’s only relief.

“You can't hurt me.”

Bennett laughed similarly. He liked that answer.

“We'll see about that.”

Dick was still waiting for that hand signal. It didn’t seem like it was coming.

Suddenly the door opened. Dick watched as a man with a red mask entered. The man’s gaze instantly landed on Bennett, who spotted him and gestured him over. The man pulled off and tossed his jacket on the floor as he crossed the room. Dick watched him, and even though he had all of the warnings in the world, his stomach still dropped when the newcomer kneeled on the bed.

“Who’s this?” Damian asked.

“My friend, John.”

Damian looked at him dryly. “You mean your prostitute.”

Bennett laughed, thinking that Damian was trying to be funny. The idiot didn't even realize he was being played. Dick listened carefully, his heartrate picking up.

“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” Bennett said.

“How much?” Damian said.

“You can pay me after. For now, let’s have fun.”

The man in the red mask pulled Damian’s unbuttoned shirt off of his shoulders, leaning in to kiss the back of his neck. The man’s hand slipped around, expertly loosening the belt with one hand. Damian opened his mouth to speak but was silenced when Bennett leaned in, kissing him. There was something almost sickening about seeing Damian trapped between two men, both of them ravaging his body, but Dick forced himself to focus. They were so close to finishing their goal and Dick knew he needed to pay attention. But it was becoming too much to watch, so Dick diverted his gaze. Listened instead—even though the sounds of lips moving had Dick gripping the edges of the armchair. His heart was racing impossibly fast.

“His name’s John. What should I call you?” Damian said finally, as the sounds of kissing stopped.

“My name’s Bennett,” he said, finally. Dick froze at the name. “What’s yours?”

Dick wasn't looking. But he can perfectly imagine the look in Damian’s eyes.

“I think I was wrong, Bennett,” Damian said, diverting the question. “I think this establishment you run is pretty nice after all. Do you think I’ll be able to stop by again?”

“I think we should get through tonight first. But I’m sure you’ll be welcome to come back and play with my toys.” He made a small noise, almost like a laugh. Like he had caught himself. “Sorry, my workers.”

Dick immediately looked up—his eyes instantly locking with Damian's. Damian gave the signal behind Bennett’s back.

There were a hundred more graceful ways that Dick could have gotten them out of that situation—but he couldn't stand to stop and think of a single one. He took Damian’s signal like a gunshot at the start of a race, immediately jolting up—his partner pulling back in surprise.

“We have to meet with the boss tomorrow!” he practically yelled and everyone stopped and looked at him, startled.

Damian snapped and pointed in his direction. “You're right.”

Dick and Damian quickly swung out of the bed, grabbing their discarded clothing.

“Wait a minute—”Bennett started, but they ignored him, running out of the club half-dressed.

 

“ _Do you like pain_?”

Dick kept his eyes focused, steadfast, on the road. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

“ _You can't hurt me_.”

“Turn it off,” Dick said.

“I want to make sure I got the whole thing,” Damian said dismissively. The recording played Bennett’s low laugh, crystal clear.

A low, dull anger was steadily rising in Dick’s chest. His skin felt hot, his mouth clenched shut as he tried not to argue. Dick shifted in the carseat uncomfortably—he felt like something was trying to beat its way out of him.

“ _We'll see about that_.”

Dick turned the wheel sharply, pulling over. He stopped and looked at Damian.

“Turn it off,” he repeated, sternly this time. They faced each other fully—their masks had been removed in the car, tucked back inside of the dashboard. Damian stared at him, saw the serious look in Dick’s eyes, and shook his head to himself in disbelief. Still, he shut it off. He looked at Dick dryly, shrugging—daring Dick to say something else. Dick huffed a little but turned the car back onto the street.

“Honestly, I don't understand why you're so touchy,” Damian said, a bit snidely. Dick didn't say anything but Damian’s bratty tone only aggravated him more. He couldn't say anything. If he did, then Damian would know he was getting under his skin—which would only invite more unwanted comments.

 Dick just tried to focus on driving but his heart was beating fast and all he could do was listen to Damian’s words, no matter how hard he tried to block it out. “Is it because you're jealous?”

“ _Jealous_?” Dick repeated. The word felt like sand in his mouth. His heart beat a little quicker, the word echoing in his mind. Damian kept rambling.

“It's not my fault the creep latched onto me. Face it, someone wasn't attracted to you for once.”

“Damian,” Dick said. He could hear the warning in his voice—but he wasn't sure how to follow up on it. He felt useless, powerless.

As powerless as he was in that room.

And Damian kept talking of his own accord, far out of his control.

“Do you think it's because you're old?”

“ _Damian_ —”

“Stop sign,” Damian said, eyes flickering up.

Dick slammed on the brakes, Dick’s seatbelt locking up as they both snapped forward.

“ _Goddamnit_!” Dick growled, slamming his fist on the steering wheel. The bright side was that it was late and there was no one around.

Dick stayed there a moment, his foot on the brake. He breathed in, trying to compose himself. Trying to pretend that he was better than how he felt. He eventually resigned, shaking his head to himself. He quickly passed the stop sign and parked, turning off the engine. He then pointed at Damian.

“This is all your fault!”

“ _What is_?” Damian shot back. “Getting the weirdo to confess? Yes, I suppose that was me. _You're welcome_. Unless you mean the fault of causing the little temper tantrum you're having right now—in which case you're _wrong_.”

“You didn't stick with the plan!”

“Who cares? It all worked the same way. I didn't exactly see you _objecting_ to anything.”

“That's not the _point_ ,” Dick snapped. “The point is that you always do this! You _always_ overcomplicate things!”

Now Damian was angry. “Overcomplicate _what_?”

“You never _listen_ to me! You always argue, or don't follow my directions, or don't stay put when I tell you to. You're always getting us deeper into trouble! How many times is it going to take for you to realize that you can't _act_ like that?”

Dick thought of Bennett, touching Damian's scar. The scar from the sword that had killed Damian so many years ago because he had ran away. Because he hadn't listened.

_Do you like pain_?

But then Dick remembered the rest. Remembered that he had been there that night, right there, and he hadn't stopped it. Remembered that everyone had worked to bring Damian back to life—and he couldn't be there for that.

Remembered that they were on this mission, because of him, and he had done nothing to stop Damian when they walked into that private room.

“Then go frolick with Drake!”

“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“You said it yourself! You said that you wanted to work with him instead, so go do it then! Why do you bother dragging me along with you when you obviously don't want me around?”

“Oh come _on_ ,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. “This isn't what I'm talking about!”

“You could have had _any_ of us and yet you chose me last, didn't you?” Damian accused. Dick paused. Damian picked up on it, looking upset. “I knew it. How could you seriously have chosen any of them over me? We were _partners_.”

Dick slowly shook his head, the anger beginning to dissipate. There was more to this than he expected—and as much as Damian yelled back, there was a tension in the way he looked at him, a deeper emotion behind his eyes. He looked at Dick like he wanted him to say it was all untrue.

That word was still echoing in Dick’s head. _Jealous_.

Dick didn't know what to say. He shook his head, voice softening. “It wasn't like that, okay? This was an undercover mission. I didn't know what was going to happen.”

“If you had, would you still have chosen them over me?”

Dick felt heat rise to his skin. His nerves on edge.

“Yes,” he admitted.

A look passed Damian’s eyes, almost like disappointment. Instead of quipping back, he kept his mouth shut, seeming almost sullen. Dick thought about the events of that night and felt it all over again—the fire underneath his skin.

His blood was boiling.

“I don't ever want to see someone else touch you like that,” Dick said, his tone biting. Damian's gaze flickered up at him, surprised. Dick didn't realize what he had said until he had already said it.

“Someone _else_?” Damian repeated.

“You know what I meant,” Dick said, shaking his head. He moved to start the car back up but Damian grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him.

“No, I don't. What do you mean by that?”

“You're doing it again,” Dick said, frustrated. He tried to pretend that nothing was wrong. Tried to pretend that the idea of someone else, _anyone_ else, touching Damian didn't set him on edge.

Tried to pretend that he hadn't secretly wished it had been him instead. Tried to pretend that he hadn't been disguising thoughts and feelings for his younger partner for weeks, _months_ now.

Tried to pretend that he hadn't spent nights—alone when he could have easily had company—imagining Damian in bed, shirtless, and how pissed off it had made him to finally have that fantasy brought to life and utterly corrupted.

But of course, as always, Damian wasn't listening. Dick frowned, eyes narrowing in suspicion as Damian’s seatbelt clicked undone. He was being backed into his seat, the material making a sound as it crinkled beneath him, as Damian leaned in.

Dick saw it coming, even though it happened so fast. But predicting it still didn't stop him from freezing in place as Damian's lips pressed against his, heatedly. Dick’s eyes closed shut at once, feeling Damian's lips against his. He thought about how Damian had been kissed all night—someone else on his lips, his neck, his body—it made him want to hold on tighter. His fingers buried in Damian's hair, pulling him deeper, kissing him hard.

Damian’s arm was planted on Dick’s carseat, trying to balance himself. He let Dick draw him in, let him angle his head so they could kiss easier. Let him open his mouth with his tongue so they could taste each other, their lips moving with growing urgency.

Dick jerked back when he felt Damian's other hand between his legs. Some of his common sense returned to him.

“What are you doing?” he said, grabbing him by the wrist. But his breaths were heavy, and he could hear Damian too, could feel the warmth of him as their faces were drawn in close. He looked up at Damian—the lighting was dim, saved only by the streetlight hanging over the car, and he caught a glimpse of his flushed face, his hazy eyes. Just like Dick had dreamed.

“Is it bad that I wanted to do it, just to see if it pissed you off?” he asked.

“Shit,” Dick cursed under his breath, his last bit of restraint severed. And he pulled Damian back in, crushing his lips against his. There was a groan between their mouths.

Damian was palming Dick through his clothes as they kissed. Damian's mouth was hot, wet—the tips of their tongues meeting. Each slide of their mouths, each movement done by Damian’s hand, increased Dick’s arousal. His entire body felt flushed. The dress shirt felt buttoned too tight around his throat. His pants felt restricting. He was getting turned on, fast, the frustration from the whole night quickly catching up to him.

He pushed Damian's hand out of the way, quickly undoing the belt—the metal buckle making a distinct noise in the confined space of the car—along with the hook and zipper. Damian stuck his hand back in—past the waistbands of his clothing, his warm hand pressing against his erection, the skin touching skin. His hand was every bit as rough as Dick expected, every bit as rough as Dick _wanted_ , and Dick groaned almost desperately at the touch. Dick’s head leaned back against the carseat, trying to steady his breathing, wondering how long it had been since he had gotten this turned on by the touch of a hand, but Damian quickly recaptured his lips, unrelenting.

Dick moaned against Damian’s lips as fingers began to wrap around his hard cock. He lifted his hips, letting Damian stroke him, pulling Damian in deeper all the while. Pulling him in to taste him, to suck on his bottom lip—the same way he had seen Damian do earlier that night, to someone else. To someone that wasn't him. Damian reacted with a soft noise.

“How far would you have gone?” Dick asked. Somewhere, in the deep haziness of Damian’s eyes, he was lost.

“What?” he breathed. His breath sounded short.

Dick suddenly pulled his head back by the hair, giving him access to Damian's neck where the collar hung loosely, unbuttoned. Dick sucked on the skin, hard. Damian's hand wrapped around his pulsing cock a little tighter, to which Dick groaned.

“I'm asking you how far you would have let him go just to _piss me off_ ,” Dick said, pulling back far enough to murmur against Damian’s ear. Damian shuddered in response.

Dick unbuttoned the rest of Damian’s shirt, yanking it back off of his shoulders. He had to stop and let Damian pull the rest of it off of his body, and he felt a hot spike of desire as the clothes came off. Very rarely did Dick ever see Damian in anything that wasn't a sweatshirt or his uniform, much less bare skin. The closest he had ever gotten were the few times he had peeked over when they worked out together—and even then he couldn't see it like this, his chest and torso sculpted and scarred and so perfect. And bare, just for him. The situation was hardly ideal, in his cramped car parked in the middle of nowhere, but Dick was so turned on he didn't care.

He didn't stop to stare when the shirt was finally flung aside. He immediately leaned in—as awkward as it was with the car’s console between them—tasting Damian’s skin. Damian’s breath hitched lightly as Dick’s lips dragged across his sensitive skin, kisses feathering against his abdomen, closing in on his chest, mouth latching onto his nipple. Damian made this sound, the edge of it almost like a growl, and Dick felt a dark satisfaction in knowing that he elicited that noise. He wished he could hear that sound all night.

Damian suddenly pushed Dick off of him, pinning him back against the seat. He leaned over his lap and Dick watched curiously, trying to figure out what Damian was doing. It all made sense when the car seat suddenly slid back.

Dick held his breath as he watched Damian climb into the space, their eyes locking. Damian's eyes were dark with desire and they were looking at _him_.

“I'm more curious about how far _you_ would have let him go,” Damian said, hovering over him. His hands are pulling on the buttons of Dick’s shirt, hurriedly. Impatiently. “You already let him go so far. Would you have allowed him to keep undressing me? Touching me?”

His voice spoke in a low, almost wicked way. Dick listened to the words, those moments in the backroom replaying in his mind, and he felt almost a chill go through him as he remembered. It was followed by a dull rage, and it was only further fuelled because he knew Damian was saying it on purpose. Was saying it to get under his skin and he just hated how good his partner was at doing that.

“Would you have let him tie me up and hurt me, treating me the same way he does to his _things_?” Damian said, an edge to his voice. Dick remembered the men, tried to imagine Damian in their place. Tried to imagine Damian tied up and subjected to the whims of strangers as they touched him, humiliated him, used him. He felt a rush of anger go through him, something he rarely felt—something that was almost never weaved just by words. He wished he had something to grab onto, something to break.

Damian was close now, body crawled over Dick’s, lips so close they almost touched as he spoke. Dick knew he was being prodded and pushed into some fucked up form of seduction, knew that Damian just wanted Dick to kiss him right there—and it was tempting. Dick wanted to kiss and suck and bite on his lip, but that wasn't how things were going to play out. He wasn't going to let Damian run wild.

He placed his hands on Damian’s shoulders, pushing him down on his knees onto the car floor. Damian's gaze flickered up at him with surprise—Dick knew what he was thinking, he was thinking that Dick didn't have the gall. But if he was disappointed to be proven wrong, it hardly showed. He almost seemed pleased with the reaction, a spark of desire behind his eyes—especially now that he was on his knees, between Dick’s legs and face to face with his erection.

Still, mockingly, Damian asked, “Would you have let him do this too?”

“Shut up,” Dick breathed, and Damian did.

He put his hands on Dick’s hips, leaning in to swallow the head of his erection.

Dick’s hand reached to grab something, anything, and had to settle on the control panel of the door. Damian's mouth was hot, wet. As he sunk further down, Dick felt Damian’s warm tongue slide against the underside of his cock.

“Fuck,” Dick cursed under his breath, covering his mouth with his hand. Damian looked up at him, and even in the dim lighting, Dick could catch the sight of his face—cock still buried inside of his mouth. He groaned, wrapping his hands behind Damian’s ears, the fingers touching his hair. “You look so fucking good.” He almost forgot the nature of their game. He gritted his teeth, an aggressive edge to his voice, “Don't ever show anyone else that face. No one but me. Understand?”

Damian seemed to hum in agreement, eyes lowering back down. His head sunk down, deeply, burying the thick cock deep inside of his mouth. Dick gripped the back of Damian’s head a little tighter, guiding his head a little quicker. He slid into Damian’s mouth, producing wet, filthy sounds.

A stranger would never be able to fully appreciate this. Would never understand how powerful it was to have Damian, who was proud and reserved, on his knees. Would never appreciate the obscene sounds that came as Dick pushed into his mouth, over and over, at his own controlled pace.

Dick adjusted his sitting position, trying to give Damian more room. As he moved, his leg moved underneath Damian, brushing between his legs.

He saw the way Damian pulled back, just slightly, in surprise. Saw the way he shuddered. It didn't take long for Dick to piece together that Damian was likely turned on too, the thought of it sent a surge of lust through him. He wanted to see Damian turned on. Wanted to see him naked and hard for him.

“Do you enjoy this? Do you enjoy sucking me off?” Dick whispered, and he almost didn't recognize the sound of his own voice. Didn't recognize the husky and almost cruel way that he spoke. “Would you have gotten down on your knees and let _him_ fuck your mouth too?”

Damian seemed to swallow more of him, nearly taking the entire length. Dick gritted his teeth, his cock buried into encapsulated heat. It felt so good but Dick forced him off, tilting his head back so he could get a good look at Damian’s face. So they could lock eyes. He looked at Damian, could see the almost drunk desire in his eyes, could see the wet shine of his lips from sucking him and he wanted to kiss him again so badly.

“Answer me,” Dick said, and he was almost afraid he sounded too harsh because he _never_ spoke that way, but he swore he could feel Damian roll up against his leg.

“No.” There was this look in Damian’s eyes, something heady but also cunning. Like he was still, somehow, even on his knees, perfectly in control. In a voice sounding almost like a promise, he added, “Just yours.”

Dick hated how Damian just knew that was what he wanted to hear.

“Good,” Dick said, nodding. “Because I'm going to get you so addicted to my taste that you're never going to even think about anyone else.”

Damian groaned softly. Dick loved that Damian was turned on by this, turned on by just giving him head and listening to his words. He quickly pulled Damian’s head back down, loved the way Damian’s mouth seemed to massage his cock at a steady pace. Alternating between licking and sucking and kissing. Dick’s eyes fluttered shut, savoring the feeling. Still not entirely convinced that this wasn't just another dream.

The pleasure was racing through his body, building in his groin. He could come like this—sitting, relaxing, letting Damian work him up just by using his mouth. He could come buried inside of Damian’s mouth, make him swallow, or maybe pull back and mark his face. But that wasn't how he wanted to finish this, this wasn't how he wanted this to play out—as tempting as the idea was. He yanked Damian off of him.

“We're not done,” Dick said, pulling him up to ravage his mouth. The mouth that had just been on his cock. When they pulled away, they were both gasping. Dick continued, “Not even close. I want to fuck you. I want every part of you.”

Dick kissed him, hastily. Hands running down Damian’s exposed skin. Burying his face in his neck to suck on his throat, hard. Hard enough to leave marks. Hard enough for people to notice and see, adding color to Damian’s skin that would last long after they were out of this car.

If they ever got out of this car.

Damian’s vocal in a way that Dick never expected. Normally his voice is reserved for sarcastic comments and biting remarks, not for panting and moaning with pleasure. Damian’s undressing the last of his clothes, Dick’s mouth and hands still on him. Biting his neck, pulling at his nipples, moving the leg brushed up against his clothed erection in a deliberate manner. Dick’s erection was strained as he waited, unbelievably turned on as Damian rolled up against his leg, seeking friction and looking desperate.

“Come on,” Dick growled with a sense of urgency. The tone comes out naturally—he's been aroused for awhile now. “You didn't take this long in that private room. You just let them undress you, you were practically eager for it.”

Dick can see the flush in Damian’s face, but his eyes are locked with him the entire time, gaze intense. Damian finally leans back, belt and zipper undone.

“Show me,” Dick said, trying to mask the desire in his voice. Trying to sound more commanding than hungry.

Dick could see and hear the clothes being lowered but the shadows reached too far. He grabbed Damian and pulled him up, bringing him closer and into the light. Damian balanced himself, one knee on the edge of the carseat between Dick’s legs, both hands on the seat. Dick can see his erection, flushed and pointing, and it gives Dick gratification knowing that Damian is enjoying this. He reached around, yanking the garments further down Damian’s thighs. Damian kicked off his shoes and the rest of his clothes.

Dick ran his hands up Damian’s body. Feeling and grabbing the hard muscles, and Damian’s eyes fluttered shut. They slowed down for just a moment, just long enough for Dick to touch his body. Dick watched with close fascination, watching Damian’s body react to his touch, felt the shivers and the tension and the relaxation. Dick just wished he could have all of him at once but his need was too great, and the car windows were fogging up besides.

Dick reached for Damian’s cock, pulling at it. Damian’s breath hitched. Dick looked at his face, saw his eyes screwed shut, lips parting slightly as he breathed. Dick grabbed him by the chin, forcing his attention. Damian’s eyes opened, gaze almost sultry. Dick felt weak just looking at him.

“Look at me,” Dick said anyways, voice low. Almost hushed. He continued to stroke him and he could feel Damian’s body quiver at the attention. Damian was hot and heavy in Dick’s hand, the tip of his cock wet with precum. Dick just kept talking, his composure beginning to return to him. He wasn't as angry, as unhinged, anymore. He was reestablishing control, felt more covetous rather than desperate to hold on. “You need me to make you come.”

“Not yet,” Damian breathed as Dick rubbed him, closer to the base now.

“No, not yet,” Dick agreed. “I need to get inside of you first.” Dick stroked his cock a moment longer before finally letting his hands roam again, gripping Damian’s ass. He suddenly tugged Damian into lap. He added, “Would you have let him inside of you?”

There was a subtle reaction, a flicker of something in Damian’s eyes. Dick almost stopped and stared, noticed Damian’s concern even as he remained mute and kept his thoughts to himself. At first, Dick worried that maybe he took his teasing too far—but then a thought occurred to him.

Dick threw the sexy talk in a mental drawer for a moment. He looked at Damian, spoke a touch quieter, “You do know that's what he wanted, right?”

Damian just looked at him, his expression mixed.

“I wouldn't have let him,” Dick said. He didn't say it just to be reassuring. He meant it. Dick slowly shook his head, looking Damian in the eyes. “It wouldn't have been worth it, not even for a mission. I would have found another way. I'd never let anyone touch you like that.”

Damian glanced up at him. “And what about you?”

Dick didn't know what to say. Truth be told, if a mission required it, he would sleep with someone if he had to. But Damian was looking at him with this expecting gaze—like he didn't want Dick to say it.

Dick stopped at that thought.

Damian suddenly kissed him, pulling him back in. Dick sighed against his lips. Their momentum was hardly thrown off—Dick realized he was still rock hard.

Dick reached around, grabbing Damian’s ass in his hands, feeling him. Dick rolled his hips up, his erection brushing against Damian’s bare ass. Dick gritted his teeth in anticipation.

He pulled back, just long enough to get his fingers in Damian’s mouth. “Suck. I'm going to open you up now.”

Damian obeyed and the wet drag of his mouth on Dick’s fingers made Dick groan slightly. He remembered being inside of Damian’s mouth, decided he couldn't wait to be inside of him again. The anticipation was tight in his chest. He took back his hand and reached around, finding Damian’s entrance. Pushed inside of him.

Damian lifted up, groaning as Dick buried the digit inside of him, up to the knuckle. Dick clenched his jaw, couldn't believe how hot and tight Damian was. Tried to imagine his cock in place of his fingers.

Dick thrusted up into him; relishing the hitched breaths and gasps he received as he fingered Damian’s hole. Each thrust sank him deep inside of Damian—up to the knuckle. He pulled back out, spitting into his hand. He stuck two fingers back in and he heard Damian hiss between his teeth, face wincing. Dick captured his mouth, trying to distract him from the feeling, trying to make the process feel good.

He was moving his fingers around, almost experimentally, trying to get Damian to feel good. Trying to stretch him, trying to find his sensitive spots.

It took a lot of prodding. A lot of Damian squirming and rocking in his lap. He moved up to three fingers, and though Damian groaned as he pushed them in, he didn't seem to be in pain. His eyes even seemed to be swimming in desire as he was filled.

Dick pushed into Damian, felt him shudder. Dick moved his fingers around, and when he heard Damian suddenly gasp as he curled his fingers.

Dick found the spot, massaging and prodding into it, Damian’s hole relaxed around his fingers. In time, his thighs were quivering, as Dick continued to tease the spot. Wanting Damian nice and ready and willing when he shoved his cock inside. Dick wanted to capture the moment forever,felt like he could do this for the rest of his life.

Dick pulled his fingers out, spitting into his hand. Getting his erection slick. He didn't even have to do anything, Damian grabbed hold of him—position himself. There was a unanimous groan as the head of his erection went in.

Damian cursed lightly under his breath. His eyes were cast downwards, concentrating as he tried to relax. Tried to accept more of Dick’s cock inside of him. After a moment, he lowered himself, and even though Dick wanted nothing more than to record all of Damian’s expression in his head, his eyes fell shut when his cock was slowly swallowed.

Dick had imagined him this tight. This hot. They were still for a moment, trying to adjust to one another. Dick willed himself to roll his hips up, thrusting deeper inside.

“Fuck,” Dick said, a bit of a hiss to his voice. Not even acting, he murmured, “I should be the one inside you every night.”

 Damian’s breaths were shaking, filling the space of the car. Dick could feel him—could feel him shudder around his cock. He held onto Damian, the confines of the carseat almost frustrating, and pulled back and pushed into him again. A sharp gasp escaped Damian, his lips slightly parted. He put his hands on the carseat to steady himself.

“Maybe _I_ should be the one to tie you up. I'll keep you close to me, so no one can ever take you away.”

There was a flicker in Damian’s eyes. Something almost like interest, and Dick can faintly hear Damian suck in his breath.

“Do you want that?” Dick kept going, rolling his hips into Damian all the while. Deeper and deeper. Dick stroked Damian’s arms that were settled on each side of him, moving slowly down the limbs until they locked around the wrists. Dick swore he felt himself grow harder when he saw the way Damian’s eyes melted. “Do you want me lock you up and tie you so no one else can have you? Tie you up and _fuck_ you?”

Some small bit of Damian’s pride was still locking him in. The unwillingness to give up complete control, at least not yet. Dick reached for the control, where their neckties had been discarded. Damian noticed, made a soft noise just as Dick thrusted up into him.

“All you have to do is ask,” Dick murmured.

“ _Please_ —”Damian started, caving in, but his breath was caught when Dick grinded up inside of him. Dick loved hearing that word come out of Damian’s mouth. Wanted to hear it again and again. It was tempting—to take the fabric, knot it around Damian’s wrists, maybe even tie him to the steering wheel. But that was more than what Dick wanted to deal with—this was good enough, and he wanted to just focus on fucking Damian.

“Not today,” Dick decided, and Damian made a small noise that sounded almost mournful. Dick’s hands went back to Damian’s hips.

The teasing had an effect on him. Damian was now moving to meet Dick’s thrusts, bouncing on him in a way that felt almost perverse. His face was twisted with pleasure, his sounds growing more frantic. His reactions only fuelled Dick’s passion.

The friction between their bodies was intense, almost too much. Their hasty preparation was beginning to show. But Dick didn't slow down, he kept going. Kept bucking up into Damian, absorbing his noises and knowing that he was the one making it happen. Knowing that he was getting this type of response from Damian.

He thought about letting someone else have him. Thought about someone taking him, shoving their cock in deep, while Damian moaned and panted and sighed. It put him in such a frenzy that he was slamming into Damian, fast and deep, gripping his hips in a way that he was sure must have hurt. He heard the obscene sounds of their bodies meeting, sensed the seat beneath groan and shake, could smell their sex and sweat in the trapped car, but he was unrelenting. He had been pushed too far.

He wanted to just keeping going and going. Wanted to push in deep. Wanted to push in so deep that Damian would be aching for days, remembering who it was that had been inside of him. Wanted to hurt him and love him all at the same time.

And Damian was responding to it all, body shaking and voice crying out in a way that Dick never could even dream of. His body, sensitive and wanting and wanton and needy. Allowing Dick to fuck him harshly, relentlessly.

Dick wrapped his hand around Damian’s hard prick. Stroked him off quick because he was not sure how long he could stay buried inside, he was already close so close. Damian’s hands were on his shoulders now for support and now they were pressing down, blunt nails digging into Dick’s skin, but Dick just gritted his teeth and kept going.

He felt Damian’s hole tighten around him, so hot and tight, in a way that Dick felt his cock pulse just at the sensation. Felt it clenching around him as he shook and came, his voice rising as he gasped and climaxed in Dick’s hand.

Dick felt Damian tremble around his cock, looked into his face as he came, and knew he was close. He wiped his hand off carelessly on Damian’s lower abdomen, watched as the essence coated his skin. And he was holding him and thrusting up into him again.

“You're mine,” Dick breathed. And even though Damian looked so lost in afterglow of his orgasm, even though his body was so sensitive that he was flinching in response to every thrust, he managed to nod. He tangled his fingers in Dick’s hair, looking at him with those drunk eyes.

“I’m yours,” he encouraged and Dick felt his heart racing, a rush going through him.

“Say it again,” Dick said, but he was so lost in pleasure that his voice didn't sound demanding. It sounded desperate.

Damian looked at him with half-lidded eyes, and Dick could see that none of his trickery was there.

“I've always been yours.”

Damian kissed him again, and just that little bit more, just the feeling of Damian’s tongue against his, was just that extra push he needed. Dick broke the kiss, burying himself deep inside of Damian, felt his body begin to quake and heat pooling in his groin, until he finally gritted his teeth and finished with a groan.

 

Dick sat behind the ledge on the rooftop. He surveyed the snowy streets, watching people with their shopping bags walking by. He heard Damian sigh behind him. Still no signs of their target.

As Dick watched the streets, he observed all of the people coming out of the stores. He stopped on a certain figure—something about the person was oddly familiar, but he couldn't place his finger on it. The person was waiting outside one of the stores.

Coming out of the store to meet with him was an employee. His jacket was only half zipped. He also looked vaguely familiar.

Dick zoomed in on the mask, looking closer.

“Hey, what was the name of that one guy you were with?” Dick said, looking at Damian. Damian looked at him, clearly confused.

“Huh?” he said dumbly.

“When we went undercover on that big trafficking case. A few months back, remember? It wasn't just Bennett. There was that other guy who got handsy with you—the worker, some guy in a red mask.”

“I don’t know. It’s not like it was him that I was after. It was something like Joe? John?”

“John. That was it,” Dick said. He looked again, catching the guy’s nametag. He watched as the two walked off with each other. Dick laughed a little. “Imagine that.”

“What is it?” Damian said, kneeling next to him. He zoomed in on his mask too, looking. “I don’t get it.”

“Those are totally the guys we were with on that case. The guy I was with had that same tattoo on his wrist.” Dick smiled, shrugging. “Well, good for them. The guy did have nice hands...”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on our work?” Damian said, annoyed.

“What, is all of this talk about hands making you jealous?” Dick teased a little.

Damian made a small, amused noise under his breath. He turned his head, adjusting his mask, but Dick still caught the smallest glimpse of a smirk.

“You wish.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all the tumblr memories guys!
> 
> I won't be reuploading anything else from my tumblr to AO3, unfortunately. But in the future, if I decide to post art or fic previews, it will be posted on my dreamwidth.
> 
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> [My Dreamwidth](https://lacemonster.dreamwidth.org/)
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> And as always, the best way to contact me is on twitter and Discord.
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> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/lacemonsterbats)
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> Thanks for reading!


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